


Thunder's Getting Louder

by Teumessian



Series: The Boundless Saga [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Forced Orgasm, Kissing, M/M, Sex Magic, lots of emotions, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6411718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teumessian/pseuds/Teumessian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once in his life, Alec decides to take something for himself. He forgets that everything comes with a cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder's Getting Louder

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [pro bono](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6344575) by [sarcasticfluentry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfluentry/pseuds/sarcasticfluentry). 



> Thanks so much to [Emma](povverbottoms.tumblr.com) for writing the fic that inspired me to watch Shadowhunters and then write this fic. You are the total worst. Thank you also for betaing!
> 
> This fic can be read as being in the same 'verse as Emma's "pro bono", but can also be read independently, or even as a follow up to episode twelve. No real spoilers are given, so pick your preferred backstory. (Though I highly recommend reading Emma's fic because it's fucking amazing, and is definitely how I see their first time going).
> 
> Title is from Borns "Electric Love".

_Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle_

_I can't let you go now that I've got you_

 

The Institute is quiet, but sadly not totally silent as Alec slips into the entry hall.

“Where are you off to so late, big brother?” Isabelle’s coy voice stops Alec in his tracks.

She’s leaning against the wall with her phone in her hands. Her eyes glitter with amusement and Alec curses whatever deities still exist for crossing their paths.

“We don’t have any missions tonight, so…” Alec says instead of answering her question.

Her sharp eyes rake down his frame, her tongue poking out gleefully.

“You’re dressed up rather nice for a Thursday night.”

“No I’m not,” Alec says.

He isn’t. He’s wearing all black, just like he usually does.

“Your pants are rather tight,” she says, pursing her lips knowingly.

Redness crawls up Alec’s neck but he doesn’t let it show on his face. He stares his sister down.

“Don’t worry. I never saw you,” Isabelle says, pushing off the wall and disappearing down the hallway.

Alec closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, centering himself. Then he pushes his way out into the night air before he runs into anyone else.

 

Pandemonium pulses with energy, bodies swaying and heaving under the flashing lights. Alec’s lashes bat up and down, and he’s overly aware of the feeling of makeup on his face. Earlier in the evening, Alec had held perfectly still in Magnus’ apartment while the warlock carefully applied the golden eyeliner. His fingers were so gentle on Alec’s jaw, holding him steady as he drew the careful lines. Alec stopped breathing for a while, only remembering to gasp at Magnus’ prompting.

The ghost of Magnus’ hands on his face is intoxicating, more so than the shimmering cocktails they sipped down before coming to the club. Together the effect is heady, and it makes Alec feel daring, confident enough to dance with a couple of rainbow-haired pixies who pulled him from the booth that is Magnus’ throne, at the center of his domain. Alec doesn’t dance very often, but one doesn’t grow up with Isabelle Lightwood and end up totally hopeless on the dancefloor.

The pixies’ feather light touches on his body make his skin tingle a little, but it’s nothing in comparison to the knowledge of Magnus’ gaze burning into him. Alec dances for one, two more songs before returning to Magnus’ side. He almost laughs hysterically when he thinks about what his parents would say if they saw him now. He runs his fingers through his hair, a self-soothing gesture.

A few warlocks settled around Magnus in Alec’s absence, but they disperse quickly when Alec approaches. He’s too focused on Magnus to notice the looks they shoot in his direction.

Magnus smiles as Alec settles beside him, the glittering navy shadow on his eyelids making them look like miniature midnight skies.

“Do you know that you’re beautiful when you dance, Alexander?” Magnus says, setting his martini glass down. “I mean, you’re always beautiful, but it’s a treasure to see you moving so freely.”

Alec is fairly sure a permanent blush exists on his face when he’s around Magnus. He doesn’t know what to say, dropping his gaze and smiling against his will. He looks back up when he feels Magnus’ fingers on his face.

“The gold suits you,” Magnus says, voice quieter.

There’s a lilt to his voice that drags Alec’s gaze down to his lips. Magnus fulfills Alec’s unspoken wish as soon as the thought crosses his mind. He leans in, capturing Alec’s bottom lip between his own. The kiss starts slowly, mouths parting and rejoining cyclically. The sounds of the club fade to a distant hum and Alec whimpers at the first taste of Magnus’ tongue.

All bets are off when Magnus’ fingers slide back into his hair, sending shivers through his whole body. Alec forgets where he is when Magnus touches him. He forgets his responsibilities, his fears—forgets the downworlders surrounding them, forgets how to breathe, forgets his own name (his first and, more importantly, his last).

And Alec feels better than he has in the entirety of his relatively short life.

They don’t stay at the club long.

 

Alec’s chest inflates and falls rapidly, spine arching as Magnus drags his nails firmly over his hips. Sweat glazes his skin beautifully. There’s nothing more gorgeous on earth than Alec Lightwood in the throes of passion; that, Magnus will defend until he dies.

Which is probably never, so the odds rest in his favor.

The view from where Magnus kneels between Alec’s legs is indescribable. His shoulders press down into the silks on Magnus’ bed, red to match the flush painted over his body. Alec chews on his lips and whines as Magnus sucks a quick mark into the soft skin of his inner thigh. His fingers are tugging on his own hair and Magnus’ eyes drop to half mast.

“You really are beyond compare, Alexander,” Magnus says, words flowing as he runs his hands down Alec’s thighs. “Succubae would envy you… Incubi would fall before you.”

Alec screws his eyes shut, failing—always failing—to stop the affected noises from escaping his throat.

“No one has done this for you before, have they, darling? Nobody’s touched you this way?”

Magnus knows the answer, but he still delights in the way Alec throws his head back and forth, already beyond words.

“No… nobody’s had this honor,” Magnus murmurs as he slips his hand around Alec’s cock, spreading the precome that’s already leaking from the tip of his cock.

Alec opens his eyes. They’re glued to Magnus’ face as he presses the first kiss to the head. Alec’s lips part beautifully, the picture of pleasured shock. Magnus doesn’t miss the way Alec’s fingers dig into the newly acquired stamina rune sketched onto his hip, doesn’t miss the way his legs tremble. Magnus smiles, and then gets Alec wet.

“ _Oh, oh…!”_ Alec gasps as Magnus’ tongue slides up his shaft.

His hips shift wildly and Magnus waves a hand to keep them still before he wraps his lips around Alec. Something close to a sob falls to the sheets and Alec’s hands flutter around, as if he’s adrift, desperate for something to hold onto.

Magnus captures one of Alec’s hands, twining their fingers together. He squeezes reassuringly as he wraps his other around the base of Alec’s cock. He swirls his tongue around Alec’s tip and then sucks, beginning to bob his head intermittently.

He builds up slowly, deciding to test the power of Alec’s stamina rune another night. For now he keeps his eyes trained on Alec’s face, watches the pleasure wash over him. Once again Magnus is taken by his beauty. The formerly crisp, golden lines under his eyes have smudged and blurred, making his eyes look like obsidian set in pyrite. His lips are swollen and pink. Magnus could paint him with only three perfect colors… it’s a shame Michelangelo had been a mortal. Magnus would love to commission him…

The control that is always so tenuous in Alec’s presence slips, and a wave of Magnus’ magic washes through Alec’s body. Magnus’ own lust feeding back into him, rocking him to his core. Alec’s toes curl into the carpet.

“Magnus. _Magnus_ , I—” Alec gasps, eyes widening in that astonished way they always did when he gets close.

Perhaps they will test the rune after all.

“It’s alright. Let go, my—let go, darling. Let yourself feel it,” Magnus encourages and then sucks him down again, pumping his fist faster up and down Alec’s length.

Magnus sucks sharply, tongue tracing shapes into the most sensitive part of Alec’s cock. If Magnus was mortal, the grip Alec had on his hand would bruise. All the lean muscles that grace the Shadowhunter’s body coil up, tightening as cries fall from his lips over and over.

His tendons stand out on his neck as he throws his head back.

Magnus lets his eyes fall closed and bathes in the sound of his own name on the shadowhunter’s tongue as his cock twitches hard and Alec begins to come.

Magnus momentarily releases his grip on his magic, letting it flow from his palms and into Alec’s very bones, increasing sensitivity, just enough to turn Alec’s moan into a scream.

Beautiful. He is so. _Very_. Beautiful.

Alec is out of it for a while afterwards, long enough for Magnus to dab at his mouth and settle onto his side next to Alec. He trails gilded fingers down Alec’s chest, up and down, slow and light. He’s running them down the side of Alec’s neck, head propped up on his palm when Alec’s eyes flutter open. He blinks slowly and Magnus’ heart throbs rebelliously, almost painfully, against his ribcage. Alec smiles and, oh, how Magnus loves the taste of his own apocalypse.

His tender Armageddon.

It’s not long before Alec’s eyes clear and the smile flickers from his lips. Magnus wants to snatch it from the air like a bird and put it in a cage for all eternity.

“Oh, you haven’t—I can—” Alec begins, flushing as he notices Magnus’ still present hardness.

Magnus settles him with a chaste kiss.

“It’s quite alright, darling. I’m old enough that not all satisfactions need come directly,” Magnus assures him, capturing his lips once again.

Alec lets the kiss go on, quiet and loose in ways Magnus jealously believes he is the only witness.

It’s too good to last, however. The kiss trails to a close and Alec begins to wind himself back together, like a stressed out clock counting down.

“I should get back to the Institute,” he whispers, as if he won’t have to if nobody can hear him say the words.

Magnus is happy to pretend he hasn’t.

“You are welcome to stay, sweetheart… if you’d like,” Magnus says, kissing his neck.

Alec sighs, unwinding a fraction.

“I shouldn’t…” he says, but the way he tilts his chin up to give Magnus access to more skin is answer enough.

“Nonsense. Sleep here, and I’ll create a portal straight home for you in the morning. No one will be the wiser,” Magnus says, inhaling the intoxicating scent from the hollow behind Alec’s ear. “Alright?”

Alec’s palm cups the base of Magnus’ skull, tentatively as always. It’s enough for Magnus.

“Alright,” Alec breathes.

Magnus sucks a new bruise into Alec’s pale skin and for a moment pretends he won’t be healing it before Alec leaves.

 

It’s dark when Alec wakes up. He’s surrounded by silk and fur, but Magnus isn’t beside him. His brow furrows in confusion, but then the pad of a thumb smooths away the wrinkle.

“I’m here, Alexander. Sorry, I forgot I had a friend stopping by to borrow an artifact of mine,” Magnus said, and it’s an unfriendly reminder of the real world outside. Alec knows Magnus is supplying power to the other warlocks, still hunted by Valentine. Magnus’ fingers trace one of Alec’s eyebrows. “Sleep, darling. I’ll only be a moment.”

He shrugs on an ornate robe and the faces of demons peer out from the shining cloth, writhing, snarling figures woven in silk. Alec watches, tucked into piles of pillows, as Magnus slips out of the room.

Alec means to go back to sleep, but becomes painfully aware of the fact that he badly needs to use the restroom. He sighs mournfully as he climbs out of the warm decadence of Magnus’ bed. Luckily, Magnus has a variety of robes hung by the bed. Alec chooses the least ostentatious option, what appears to be a plain black robe. Yet, when Alec pulls it on, he gasps aloud at the feel of the unidentifiable fur-lining brushing against his skin. It’s softer than a rabbit’s pelt but sits lightly on his frame, as if it were made of chiffon.

Magnus’ apartment is dark, but a permanent rune sitting on Alec’s shoulder blade makes it easy to see through the gloom.

Alec’s almost safely back to Magnus’ bedroom, as there are a host of reasons why he’d want to avoid meeting Magnus’ company—not the least of which being the robe that only falls to the top of his knees—when a bell-like laugh stops him short.

“Please, let us keep quiet. I have a guest…” Alec hears Magnus chide.

The laughter dies abruptly.

“Magnus. You cannot be implying the Shadowhunter is here.”

The voice holds _anything_ but humor now. Alec knows he should move on—it’s hardly surprising that some of Magnus’ downworlder friends might not approve of him fraternizing with a Shadowhunter—but there’s something in the acid of the woman’s tone that roots Alec’s feet to the floor.

“Clorophia, I understand your concern, and I’m touched, but…”

“Concern? Magnus, there is a reason we are discriminating in our affections. A Warlock’s love is absolute… when we love, it consumes us,” the woman, _Clorophia_ , whispers harshly.

Alec activates every concealment rune on his body and creeps to the doorway. He shouldn’t spy, but he’s powerless not to peer into Magnus’ world. The female warlock has hair the color of spring leaves, and emerald swirls adorn her cheeks. She has a large geode gripped in one hand and is staring fiercely down at Magnus, who sits casually in his favorite chair, sipping at something honey brown that’s swirling around the bottom of a crystal glass. He rolls his eyes.

“Of all people, you know I’m aware,” Magnus says, unphased by the words that are making the hair on the back of Alec’s neck stand up.

What does Clorophia mean about a warlock’s love? What does this have to do with _Alec_?

“Then what are you doing still seeing him, Magnus?!” Clorophia said urgently. “He’s like a bull in a china shop, blind and reckless. Every time I see you, your heart is bleeding more visibly. It would be one evil to fall for a mortal, but entirely another to love a _Shadowhunter_. What in all the heavens are you thinking?”

Magnus tips his glass one way and the other, looking entirely unaffected by his fellow Warlock’s passionate words.

“I’m thinking that there is something special about him. I’m thinking that Alexander Lightwood is beautiful, and I’m happy to take of him what he gives me,” Magnus says.

He says it as if he’s commenting on the weather. As if loving Alec is something… something as natural and real as the moon hanging above Brooklyn. As if it’s something established, a part of him he has no interest in changing.

Alec stops breathing.

For her part, Clorophia looks like she wants to rip her grassroot hair from her skull.

“ _This will end badly,_ ” she hisses. “He is dangerous; he will rip you open.”

Magnus smiles— _smiles_ , wry and small, as if he’s enjoying a private joke.

“If a man adopts a starving tiger, nobody blames the tiger when the man is bitten,” Magnus says, meeting Clorophia’s furious eyes. “He is young and wild… but I’ll survive.”

Clorophia shakes her head back and forth in disbelief.

“Will you? I have never in my mountain of years seen you this way, Magnus Bane. Never this... _taken_ ,” Clorophia says, the heat leaving her voice, replaced with something that rips Alec’s chest right open. “You’re letting him destroy you.”

Magnus just takes a sip of his drink, face serene.

“Well… then it’ll be a pleasant demise,” he replies.

It’s the final straw for Alec. He wants to run, or cry, he’s not sure. But he can’t be in this room with these ancient things that he has no way of understanding. He manages to keep himself concealed until he can close Magnus’ bedroom door. He puts the robe back quickly, and then scrambles to gather his clothes, piled on the floor where Magnus had magicked them off earlier in the evening—earlier in the evening, when things were still at a barely manageable level of fucked up. Back when Alec didn’t apparently have the power to destroy a centuries old being of primal power--back when Alec naively believed he could have one thing for himself without causing immeasurable damage.

He’s just finishing lacing up his boots when the door opens. Magnus’ brow dips in confusion.

“Sorry. I need to get home. If there’s an emergency and they come to find me… Mom is still... ”

It’s a flimsy, holey excuse. Magnus’ gaze is appraising, piercing as Alec pushes himself off the bed. Alec can’t let him know that he knows; it’s too much. He has to…

“I’ve gotta…”

Alec makes to go to the door, but Magnus raises a palm, even though bafflement still holds his features.

“I’ll make you a portal,” Magnus says.

“You don’t have to—”

But there’s already blue light glowing in Magnus’ hands. A portal springs to life beside them.

“Thank—thank you, I…”

Alec doesn’t know what to say, and Magnus’ face finally settles on an expression, and for the first time Alec can recognize it for what it is.

_Every time I see you, your heart is bleeding more visibly._

Alec’s heart pounds in his chest and he flees to the portal, away from shattered eyes and the resigned pain in Magnus’ face.

“I’m… I’ll—”

“You know where to find me,” Magnus says, and Alec feels more wretched than he ever as Magnus lets him off the hook again, as he always does.

He feels Magnus’ gaze on his back long after the portal closes behind him.

 

Alec avoids Magnus for over a week. He doesn’t seek him out, starves himself of Magnus’ presence until each second is a weight on his shoulders and Isabelle and Jace are breathing down his neck for answers. He provides none.

He breaks on eighth day, slips into the night like an addict looking for a fix. He’s no more honorable than one, that’s for sure. He spent all his time cleaning up messes, being the good son, the good Shadowhunter, until he’d met Magnus. He thought that made it okay, that this was an exception.

And clearly the universe has seen fit to punish him for that. No, it’s that kind of thinking that led to this shameful situation. Like Jace, like his mother and father, like everyone involved in this Institute, Alec has made someone else pay for his desires. If Alec was half the man he’d once believed himself to be, he would be knocking on Magnus’ door to apologize and pledge never to bother again. Magnus deserves that, deserves someone who can fully return his affections—someone who doesn’t fly in and out of his life like darting arrows, leaving wounds with every pass.

Alec is not the man he once believed himself to be.

“Alec.”

Magnus stands in the doorway, eyes painted black and red, without much of the glitter that usually adorned his face. Now that he’s here, Alec doesn’t know what to say, how to tell Magnus what he wants. Magnus raises one brow when Alec doesn’t say a word. His eyes glide over Alec’s body, without their usual heat. Alec knows he looks like hell warmed over. He hasn’t been sleeping much, instead spending hours wailing on a practice bag. His knuckles are purple and blue.

“Would you like to come inside?”

Always letting Alec off the hook, _always—_

Alec nods and walks by Magnus into the apartment. His gaze is appraising, and Alec deeply inhales the smells that have become painfully familiar to him--myrrh and citrus, old books and magic.

“Is everything alright, Alexander? You don’t look well,” Magnus says, approaching.

Alec doesn’t _feel_ well. His eyes bore into the decorative carpets on the ground.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Yeah,” Alec says, but then quickly changes his mind. “Wait, no.”

“Alright.”

Silence stretches out between them, and Alec gets the urge to flee—but then one of Magnus’ hands is on his waist and the other is cupping his jaw and they’re kissing. Alec throws himself into the hurricane. Magnus’ teeth are quick and sharp against Alec’s lips and he melts into the warlock like beeswax before a flame. Sparks of Magnus’ magic dance over Alec’s skin, making him gasp into Magnus’ mouth.

“Missed you, darling,” Magnus says against his lips, and it sounds different now than it has before— _darling,_ my darling.

The touches of magic sing the truth of it into his body, and Alec should tell him to stop; he shouldn’t encourage this, and yet Alec just shakes under Magnus’ hands. Tears prick behind his eyelids as the sheer force of Magnus’ feelings wash over him. He grinds his forehead against Magnus’ when they have to part for breath. Magnus’ hand skates soothingly up and down Alec’s neck and he breathes harshly, fingers digging into the small of Magnus’ back.

“What do you want, sweetheart? What do you need?” he whispers, voice velvety soft.

Alec screws his eyes shut even tighter. He has to show Magnus that he isn’t totally alone in his feelings. He has to let him know that, in spite of Alec’s circumstances, he wants to—he _wishes—_

Magnus’ eyes are earnest when Alec forces his eyes open. Magnus tucks a few strands of hair behind Alec’s ear. He knows what he wants, but he can’t quite bring himself to say it.

“I… what we did the other night—”

“You want me to suck you, Alec? All you have to do is ask,” Magnus whispers, encouraging, free of any taunt.

Alec stares into his dark eyes, deep and completely unfathomable. He licks his own lips and shakes his head just slightly.

“No, I—I want… to you. I’ve never, but I want…” The only sign that it affects Magnus is a feeling like molten gold slipping down Alec’s spine. It fills him with desperation. “ _Ah…!”_

Magnus hushes him, petting hands quickly over his body, quieting him like a startled horse. It makes Alec feel coddled, taken care of—it’s everything he’s never let himself he admit he’s wanted.

“You want me to teach you, darling?”

Alec swallows and nods. Magnus imitates him, reassuring.

“Do you want to move to the couch? We can go slow, Alexander.”

Alec takes Magnus’ offered hand and follows him out of the foyer. He lets himself be led to the plush couch and then begins to try and remove Magnus’ clothing as quick as humanly possible. He doesn’t want to go slow.

Magnus understands quickly enough, and with a snap of his fingers their shirts are gone. Perks of sleeping with a warlock, Alec thinks in a moment of hysterics.

Perhaps sensing the chaos in Alec’s head, Magnus brings their lips back together, blocking everything else out. They slide together smoothly as Magnus guides them down to the sofa. Alec spreads his knees over Magnus’s hips, spine bowing to bridge the height difference between them.

It’s mind-blowing how Alec is always looking down and yet is always feeling so small.

Magnus’ fingers trace each of Alec’s ribs, follow the dips in his abs, before climbing up and tweaking his nipples gently. Alec moans openly into Magnus’ mouth. Before Magnus, Alec had no idea they were so sensitive, had never even considered touching himself that way. Magnus on the other hand is… enthusiastic about it. He breaks the kiss and leans forward to press his lips to Alec’s chest. One arm squeezes around the small of Alec’s back, the other cups the bolt of his jaw, giving Magnus the power to move him like a puppet on strings, pushing his chest out, leaving Alec feeling both exposed and unbelievably turned on. He runs his fingers through Magnus’ hair and pants as the warlock’s teeth close gently over one sensitive bud, tongue flicking at it tortuously. Alec groans low in his throat, pressing his cheek into Magnus’ palm.

But this isn’t what he came here for and, if he doesn’t stop soon, this is going to end very different from how Alec planned.

He pulls away, dropping his head to catch his breath.

“Pants?” Alec breathes, glancing up at Magnus.

Magnus laughs mirthfully at the request and a giggle bubbles up from Alec’s throat. It’s just enough to pull Alec out of his own head.

“Of course, darling,” Magnus says and snaps his fingers, leaving them in their underwear.

It reminds Alec of the first time. He’d been flattered, even a little thrilled that he’d made this ancient being lose control. Alec chews on his lips. He’d been so naïve and his smile fades quickly.

 _A bull in a china shop_ , his mind supplies, completely ignorant to what he was apparently doing to Magnus.

Magnus is trailing his fingers up and down Alec’s curled thighs, clearly sensing the mantle of regret that’s settled on Alec’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to… we still haven’t finished rutting against each other like teenagers…” Magnus drawls, misinterpreting Alec’s hesitation.

“I never did that,” Alec says to him, unsure why those are the words that leave his lips.

The smile that curls Magnus’ lips is hauntingly bittersweet.

“Yes… I know.”

It makes something less pathetic rise up in Alec and he surges forward to catch Magnus’ lips. Apparently Magnus really isn’t used to Alec being so forward, at least not when there’s this much skin involved, and he makes a small sound in his throat and blue sparks crackle and pop around them.

Alec can do this.

He pulls away before he can get distracted again, sliding down Magnus’ body.

“Angels above and demons below… look at you,” Magnus breathes, looking more debauched than Alec has ever seen him—and that’s saying something.

His briefs were surprisingly plain, black and tented with the evidence of Magnus’ want. The floor is cold against Alec’s toes but it’s nothing compared to the flush climbing up his neck.

“You’re so pretty when you blush. I know you’re not a virgin anymore but… oh, sweetheart, I hope this never goes,” Magnus murmurs fingers brushing the pink blooming on Alec’s cheekbones.

Alec shuts his eyes under the touch, reverent. He looks back down to the task at hand. He’s faced demons, werewolves, and vampires, he shouldn’t be intimidated by a _dick_.

“You can go as slow as you’d like,” Magnus says, voice a little softer.

Alec tentatively reaches a hand out and trails his fingers over the bulge in Magnus’ briefs. Magnus inhales sharply at the touch, a couple of lights popping in and out of existence near his fingers. That alone is enough to give Alec the confidence move his hand to a hip and press his face into Magnus’ lap. He has no idea what he’s doing but the smell of Magnus is thick and heady. He moves his open mouth over the shape of Magnus’ cock.

“ _Shit, Alec_ ,” Magnus says, startled. “That’s… just like that, darling. That’s perfect, you’re—”

Alec doesn’t say anything to Magnus when he decides to move forward. He can do this, he thinks, slipping his fingers under the elastic of Magnus’ underwear. He refuses to hesitate as he draws them downward. Magnus’ cock springs free, dark and already wet at the tip. Alec licks his lips, and corrects himself. It’s not that he _can_ do this, he _wants_ to.

“Just… you remember what I did? Do what feels right, Alec... as long as what feels right doesn’t include the aggressive use of your teeth,” Magnus amends.

That fishes a little smile to Alec’s face, and he rolls his eyes. He wasn’t going to use _teeth._

Alec curls his fingers around Magnus’ cock. He wets his lips and leans in, pausing just before contact. His breath flutters over Magnus’ sensitive skin.

Alec licks him, tastes him.

“My god, you’re exquisite. Your mouth, your tongue—you’re indecent,” the words pour from Magnus, totally unstoppable.

The taste isn’t bad, actually, and Alec continues his exploration with a few more tentative kisses, tongue slipping out as he moves around the head. Magnus’ spine bows a little but his hips don’t move an inch.

“Oh, yes, just like that, sweetheart. Get it wet,” Magnus says, voice noticeably rougher.

The words are filthy, and it makes the flush climb all the way down Alec’s back. He’s achingly hard in his briefs, but this isn’t about him. Tonight, it’s about Magnus.

Alec knows he’s being sloppy, mixing spit and pre-come and letting it drip down Magnus’ length, following Magnus’ single instruction religiously. There’s something blissful about this act, and the angry buzzing in Alec’s head quiets for the first time in days. He can please Magnus this way.

“Okay… shit, alright, if you want to try taking it now—”

Alec groans, open mouthed; he does as he’s told, closing his mouth over Magnus’ cock and taking in as much as he can.

Predictably, Alec chokes as soon as it hits the back of his throat. He sputters a bit, pulling off momentarily.

“Slow, now, darling. Not all of us have had centuries to practice deepthroating,” Magnus coos, thumb rubbing along Alec’s bottom lip. Inspired, Alec takes it in his mouth and sucks, tonguing the pad and feeling the ridges of Magnus’ fingerprint. He bobs his head a little, taking more in, trying to do with Magnus’ finger what he failed to do with his cock. There’s a little fern in a pot on the side table that suddenly grows roses, bursting into an impossible bloom. The air smells hot, crackling with something. “ _Fuck_ … If I hadn’t met her personally, I would swear you were Lust incarnate… you’re positively sinful.”

Alec pulls off Magnus’ thumb with a wet pop. His eyelids feel heavy. His lips feel swollen. He focuses back between Magnus’ legs.

This time when he wraps his lips around Magnus, he’s more careful. He sticks to the head and lets one hand work up and down, collecting slickness and changing paces until he finds one that makes Magnus’ magic leap out at him. It’s so much that it almost has Alec trying to swallow Magnus down again, needing him deeper. It makes his cock kick in his briefs and a moan vibrate out from somewhere deep in his chest, only to end in a pathetic whimper as the magic continues to roll over him.

“My god, you’re so gorgeous,” Magnus murmurs, fingers raking through Alec’s hair, leaving his scalp tingling and raising goosebumps all down his chest. “You’re beautiful, Alec.”

Alec feels thumbs tracing the fall of his eyelashes on his cheeks. They prod and caress his stretched lips—and the magic is still flowing, coming in waves that make Alec squirm. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, the weight of his guilt manifesting in a desperation he’s never felt before.

“You… you really like this, don’t you? My god, you do,” Magnus says, voice losing the strength it once had. Alec opens his eyes and meets Magnus’.

He looks both the most human and inhuman that Alec’s ever seen him. His hair's a mess and his lips are bitten red, and yet blue and gold sprites bounce around in the air above him. The red and black around his eyes seems to flicker like cooling lava.

“When—when I come, I’m going to make you come, too, Alec. I’m going to show you how good you make me feel. I’m going to pour it into you,” Magnus groans, words burning into Alec’s body.

He lets himself go now. He redoubles his efforts, bobs his head, works his tongue and fist in tandem.

“Oh— _Oh,_ Alec…”

Magnus’ hands are running all over Alec’s face now, petting back his fringe, sliding down his neck, both soothing and incendiary. Alec can feel something building, like seeing a storm cloud rolling down a mountain. Magnus’ hips are twitching, and Alec can tell his control is slipping.

Magnus twists a hand into Alec’s hair, so tight it almost hurts—which just has Alec moaning brokenly around his cock.

“Yes, yeah, that’s it, Alec. That’s it, beautiful. Just like that,” Magnus is babbling now, hips rolling up into Alec’s mouth. It breaks Alec, Magnus finally caving, letting go and using him.

It feels right, so very right.

Alec curls his hands into fists, feels magic sparking against his skin, and let’s Magnus lead him.

“Alexander, I—you have to move if you don’t want—”

But Alec _does_ want. He doesn’t let Magnus pull away. Instead he pushes down as far as he can go and holds Magnus’ gaze. In the seconds before Magnus comes, his eyes narrow and his lips part, finally falling silent—and for a second Alec is afraid of what’s about to happen, Magnus’ words swirling in his head. Alec sees it coming before it hits him, roiling light barreling towards him.

Magnus begins to spill into Alec’s mouth, back arched and a single cry bursting from his lips. And that’s the last thing Alec notices before he’s drowning in ecstasy. It fills him up, right from his toes to his finger-tips. He comes suddenly, orgasm ripped out of him by Magnus’ own pleasure. He comes into his pants, writhing even as he tries to stroke Magnus through the aftershocks, which just unleashes another wave of pleasure back upon himself.

Everything blurs for a little bit, and the next thing Alec becomes aware of is a warm cloth dabbing at his face, obviously just summoned. His cheek is resting on Magnus’ thigh and he’s shaking rather violently.

“Darling, are you with me? I’m sorry I lost control there. Was it too much? Shit, Alec…”

Alec’s eyes start stinging but he holds back any tears. His voice is rough for more than one reason when he finally speaks:

“I heard you talking with your friend… the other night. I didn’t mean to but I heard and I…”

Self loathing wells up in Alec’s chest. The cloth stops moving on Alec’s throat. He forces himself to look up at Magnus, whose face is unreadable.

“I’m so… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t know.” It’s the only defense Alec has for himself, however fucking worthless it is, fittingly delivered on his knees. “What I was doing to you...I really didn’t know or I’d have—I don’t know, but I wouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have… and I have no idea how to fix this, Magnus. I don’t know…”

He’s babbling, strings of empty words flowing from his lips. Magnus’ eyes are sad, and it breaks Alec’s heart. It _breaks his heart,_ he realizes all at once. His heart is broken for Magnus and it’s broken for himself.

“I would do anything for you, you know that, Alexander?” Magnus finally murmurs.

It’s another hammer blow. Alec’s face crumples.

“I’m sorry. I’m—I can’t fix this…”

Magnus sighs softly like Alec missed the point and suddenly there’s a warm palm pressed to his cheek, and gentle fingers weaving through his hair. And Magnus is smiling. It’s not a wholly happy smile, but it’s genuine.

“It’s not your burden to bear, darling,” Magnus says, absolving Alec with fingertips resting gently under his chin.

Alec doesn’t know if he agrees. He doesn’t know if that’s enough, doesn’t know what will yank him out of Magnus’ world tomorrow. He doesn’t know what kind of scars he’ll leave on Magnus in the end.

He presses his face into Magnus’ hand anyway. He lets Magnus lead him up onto the couch, lets himself be laid down and tucked under Magnus’ chin. He doesn’t say a word when he feels the magic swell in Magnus’ hands. Alec lets him take the pain away.

Just for now.

Just for the night.

 

Weeks pass, and there’s no obvious changes in Magnus’ relationship with Alec. There’s nothing that one could easily pin down and point out and, yet, something feels different to Magnus. There’s something more… gentle about Alec’s face when he shows up at the Warlock’s door. When he touches Magnus, there’s something more deliberate in his hands, more grounded in his movements. It feels _less_ like he’s poised to flee at any moment--less tiger and more feral cat, which is something.

On the Winter Solstice, Alec joins Magnus at the faeries’ ball. He allows Magnus to weave snowdrop flowers into his hair and paint twisting lines next to his eyes. He’s even coaxed into a dance or two, their palms pressed together as they turned slowly, this way and that. When they return to his apartment, anticipation in the curling of their lips, Magnus wants to keep the theme, so he snaps his fingers and turns his bedroom into a world of white silks and the palest blues. He rides Alec, surrounded by floating lights that explode into hundreds of tiny sparkling fireworks when they come. He trails his fingers down Alec’s chest in the aftermath, crisp silence between them. It’s Alec who pushes himself up to bring their lips together.

Alec is gone when Magnus wakes in the morning. It’s not unusual--he doesn’t like to rouse Magnus when he’s sleeping, even if it means the difference between a quick hop through a portal and a trek through the New York winter in the middle of the night. Ridiculous child.

What _is_ unusual is the small parcel resting on the empty pillow beside his head. It’s simple, tied closed with a bit of twine. Magnus sits up and takes it carefully in his hands. He probes with his magic and, upon sensing no malicious intent, he pulls at the string. His brow furrows and then rises. Something cool slides into his free hand.

An obsidian arrowhead rests in his palm, tethered to a delicate golden chain. There’s a rune carved onto its face. Magnus tips his head delicately to the side, noticing the careful letters printed on the paper. It’s Alec’s clear script.

_‘Magnus,_

_I know it’s no ruby, but I wanted to give you something. The rune is the closest translation of my name. It’s a defense rune, for protection. When you wear it, you’ll always have access to what little power I can offer._

_\--Alec’_

Magnus stares at the words, and at Alec’s name engraved into the stone. It’s not a promise or a pledge, Magnus knows that. Yet, he can’t help but smile as the arrowhead warms to match the temperature of his skin. He looks, just a minute more, before sliding it deliberately over his head and feeling the weight of it resting against his sternum. Magnus lets his eyes fall close.

He leans back against the pillows and Magnus feels something like Alec’s heartbeat thrumming against his chest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear your comments, or you can find me on my multifandom blog [HERE](spanglepup.tumblr.com)!


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